Blind
by Black Illusions
Summary: Hot Streak goes blind. He reflects on his parent's death and realizes that he has to live with it. R


**Forgotten and Renewal**

**Chapter One**

"**The place to improve the world is first in one's own head and heart and hands." -Robert M. Pirsig**

**- - - -**

_**Hot Streak, Francis, F-Stop. Who they were never mattered anymore. Not to him. They were just names, weren't they? So what's the difference. He hated himself. He hated his parents for leaving him so early...there was no point to his life anymore. So now what?**_

Hot Streak watched as Virgil stood with a couple of seniors, not really paying attention to what was happening. Or at least, he wasn't until one of them offered the fourteen-year-old a cigarette. He quickly walked over and knocked it out of their hands, and without any clear logic, not that there had been any in the beginning of the act, he stomped on them.

"He don't want one," he said quietly.

"Cmon, let's get outta here..." they all muttered.

Virgil stared at Hot Streak in surprise. "What'd you do that for?"

"Lost my dad to drugs like that. It ain't right for people to have to feel that kinda pain, see? It just ain't right."

Hot Streak slowly trudged away, hands in his pockets. His mind was blank, even though he just helped a guy he figured he hated. The good question was why did he hate Virgil? He sighed and stopped at the street sign, leaning against the post. He had hated his father too, not only for abusing him, but for abandoning his mom and then losing a battle to drugs. He hated his mother for committing suicide and leaving him alone in the world. He didn't cry at either of their funerals.

"_Francis, it's okay to cry. If you need anything..."_

"_I won't cry. I have to take care of myself now, so I won't cry. I'll be tough. I don't need anyone else in the world. So just go away."_

He smacked his head slightly against the post, watching the light turn green. He pushed off against the pole and began walking across the street, barely paying attention to anything around him. He could only stare wide eyed as a truck came raring toward him, it's horns blaring a warning before all went black.

"Hot Streak! Hot Streak! HOT STREAK!" someone screamed.

_Someone is calling...from far away. I can hear them...but I can't see them..._

Hot Streak opened his eye, but everything remained as dark as night. He glanced around the room, hearing Virgil and Richie's voices around him him. He groaned, putting his hand on his head.

"You awake?" Virgil asked.

Hot Streak nodded, still trying to focus. The doctor sighed and bent over him.

"Say your name for me," he said, placing his hands in his pockets.

"H...h...Hot Streak," he said groggily. "Virgil...Richie...what are you guys doing here?"

"Came to see you, what else? We saw you get run over by that trucker. Richie ran to call the ambulance...so yeah, you're here in the hospital right now."

Questions came pouring out of Hot Streak's mouth in spite of himself. "Why is it so dark? Isn't there lights in here?"

He heard his finger ignite, but couldn't see it. "What the...I can't ignite!"

"Well...um...actually, you can ignite just fine. It's just that...Hot Streak...your eyes...you can't..." Richie trailed off.

"No!" he snapped angrily. "I can't have...I..."

He stumbled out of the bed, staggering straight into the wall. He couldn't be blind! He couldn't allow it. And yet...there he was, unable to see. He stuck his hands out in front of him, blindly finding his way to the window, where he could hear the cars outside. He strained to see the city. He could feel the sunlight on his face, but there was only darkness. At length, the young boy collapsed. His wings of freedom were clipped now.

"Dammit...why? Why the hell..." he muttered angrily, pounding the wall. "Why me?"

"Hot Streak...I'm sorry," Virgil said quietly.

"Go away! Just leave me alone!" he shouted, blindly swinging at him.

- - - -

Hot Streak finally came to school three days later, his eyes slightly misty. Virgil and Richie, for once, ran to greet him. He leaned casually against his staff, groaning. The two younger boys stood in front of him.

"Was the doctor able to do anything?" Richie asked.

"Naw. Besides...it's alright. It just...takes some adjusting," he said. "Well...later guys."

With that he walked away. He didn't really use his staff, much to their surprise, until he began walking up the steps to the front gates. _I need to...I need to work on this. I'm going to trip and fall and..._

Slam! "Ow..." he muttered, rubbing his head.

He ignored other people's laughter at the school tough guy. They didn't know what kind of place he was in. They were judging him, and he had to live with it. As he sat down in his class, the teacher began speaking.

"Francis, will you please look at the board?"

"Uh...well...I-I can't. I can't see the board," he stammered.

"Would you like to move up front?"

"No. I still wouldn't see it. I can't see anything. I...er...I'm blind."

_That's right. Accept it. It's okay. We'll live. We'll get on...I hope._


End file.
